


Unsteady

by dickgrysvn



Series: Trauma [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Mac, Hurt/Comfort, I’m so sorry, Mac Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 10:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn
Summary: Mac knows he’s in trouble. He can feel the effects of the blood loss, feel the pain radiating from his left side. He’s well aware the wall to his right is practically the only thing keeping him upright. He’s more than aware of the warm liquid coating his clothes. Heknows. But the problem is, Jack is in trouble, too. And Mac also knows that if he doesn’t get this done, then Jack won’t just be in trouble— he’ll bedead.[Title inspired by the X Ambassadors’ song]





	Unsteady

* * *

  Mac knows he’s in trouble. He can feel the effects of the blood loss, feel the pain radiating from his left side. He’s well aware the wall to his right is practically the only thing keeping him upright. He’s more than aware of the warm liquid coating his clothes. He _knows_. But the problem is, Jack is in trouble, too. And Mac also knows that if he doesn’t get this done, then Jack won’t just be in trouble— he’ll be _dead_. So Mac grits his teeth and pushes through the fog in his brain, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He blinks the sweat out of his eyes, staring down at the mess of stripped copper wires tangled in his bloody grip. _Come on, Mac. Focus._

 

  Mac's comm suddenly crackles to life in his ear, bringing Jack's urgent whisper over the line.

 

_"Hey, brother, I don't mean to rush ya or nothin'– I mean, I know that brain o' yours works in its own weird ways and ya got your own clock and everything but uh... how's it comin' there, man? It’s just gettin' a bit cramped in here, that's all."_

 

  Mac winces in response to Jack's words, ironically sending a fresh wave of pain through him. He tries his best to steady his breathing, hoping against hope Jack won't pick up on his current distress. If Jack finds out about his… condition, Mac knows his partner would instantly put all thoughts of personal safety aside in order to get to him. Mac can't allow that, no matter what. He shifts just enough to let the wall take every last bit of his weight, allowing himself to put all his energy into his hands and brain instead of trying to keep him upright. Well, almost all of it. He saves a bit of energy for trying to keep his voice steady.

 

  “Sorry, Jack. These wires are a bit tricky but I've almost got it. Just–just don’t make any ridiculous noises, okay?” Jack’s current hiding spot could barely even be described as such, and Mac is well aware that a sudden noise could alert any nearby guard to his current position.  

 

_“I’m doin’ my best, buddy. Again, not trying to rush ya, but shouldn’t you have been done by now with just some simple rewiring?”_

 

   And _there_ is the question Mac was dreading. He lets out a quick hiss as his attention— and his fingers— slip a bit, causing a slight shock to travel through his bloody fingertips. Instantly, Jack is on high alert.

 

_“Mac?! Hey, bud, you alright?”_

 

  Mac forces his voice to stay steady as he begins to lie to his partner and best friend. Well, not exactly lie, more like telling a half-truth.

 

  “Sorry, Jack. I Just shocked myself a bit. And yeah, uh, usually I would’ve been done by now, but I had a bit of company down here I had to deal with first. He’s unconscious now, I just wasted a bit of time taking care of… that.” Which _is_ technically the truth. He _had_ had company. He _did_ knock said company unconscious. But boy, is that a big half-truth. He’d left out the part about the knife. He’d left out how in the ensuing fight, the other man was able to slide that knife right between a couple of Mac’s ribs before he was able to get a solid knockout punch. Or that the fight had actually been over in just a minute or two, and it’s actually the gurgling hole in his side that is slowing him down. But he’s willing to lie to Jack if it means he would be safe. Always.

 

_“Company, huh? Yeah alright, sounds reasonable. You sure you’re ok though, man? You sound a bit… breathy.”_

 

  Mac lets out a mirthless chuckle.

 

  “Yeah well, I did just get into a fight. And won, I might add.” He also had left out the part about how that knife _just may_ have nicked a lung. _Semantics, right?_

 

  Mac takes as deep a steadying breath as he can before speaking again. “Listen, Jack, when I get this, you’ve got about 20 seconds to high-tail it out of there before the emergency lights come on and the doors lock again, alright?”

 

_“Yeah man, I got it. On your signal?”_ Jack’s voice is tense with concentration, and Mac marvels not for the first time at the sheer amount of blind trust his friend has in him. Mac strengthens his resolve to make this work. For Jack.

 

   “On my signal.” He pulls in another steadying breath. ”I'm gonna get you out of there, Jack. I promise.” Mac shuts his eyes tight against another wave of sharp pain and dizziness and forces himself to turn all his remaining focus on the wires in his fingers. He’s only dimly aware of Jack’s affirming response as he fumbles with the now-blood-covered wiring in his hands. Mac shakes his head to clear it, again forcing his brain to focus on the task at hand.

 

_All I have to do is rewire the system, and it should reset everything– the cameras, the lights, even the electronic locks. Normally, Riley would take care of this, but she's outside and it’s a closed circuit, so she can't get in unless she plugs into their system directly. Which means it's up to me. And if I don't get this done, Jack is going to be stuck in that closet until a guard finally finds him. And with the people we’re dealing with… well, let’s just say they wouldn’t all sit around singing ‘kumbaya’._

 

   Reconnecting the last wires takes more mental and physical energy from Mac than it ever should have, but he wills himself to stay on his feet until the lights all around him shut off.

 

   “ _Now,_ Jack!!” And with those words, Mac loses his feeble grip on consciousness and sinks slowly down the wall to the floor.

 

                                 

* * *

 

  


 Mac wakes up with a jolt, and for a moment the only thing he knows is confusion. The first real thing he’s aware of– besides an entire symphony of _pain_ – is that he _can’t see._ It takes longer than he would like to admit for his blood-loss addled brain to realize what that means. _I’ve only been out a few seconds at most if the lights are still out._ The second thing he’s aware of is Jack’s breathless but excited voice in his ear. Mac sluggishly realizes Jack must’ve been whooping in that idiotic-but-kinda-endearing way he does. _Probably what woke me up._

 

_“I can’t believe that worked! Don’t get me wrong, I knew your end of the deal would work, always does, but I mean, I was a bit worried I was gonna run into a guard or something, ya know?”_ Jack’s voice is hushed and halting from exertion as he runs, but it’s so high key and so _Jack_ that Mac can’t help but let out a breathless laugh, even if it does turn into a wince. He inhales sharply and immediately makes it worse. _Ok. Definitely nicked my lung._ He breathes shallowly, trying to control the pain, and puts all his remaining energy into answering Jack.

 

 “Jack, focus on getting out first please? You can celebrate when you’re clear!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Mac hears the irony in them that Jack can’t. _Practice what you preach, maybe?_ He closes his eyes and breathes as deeply as he can before steeling his nerves. _I have to get to Jack._ Without any further preamble, he shoves himself to his feet. Suddenly he’s choking on his own breath, senses blinded to everything but _pain pain pain._ He stumbles back, slamming painfully against the wall, and fights to just _breathe_. Everything is spinning, his head is pounding, and his side feels like it’s being repeatedly stabbed with a hot iron. He grounds himself on Jack’s muffled breathing in his ear, and slowly, painfully, like a radio being tuned, the static in his brain clears just enough for Mac to focus. The lights are on again, and Jack is talking and he sounds like he’s not running anymore.

 

  _“Whew! That was a rush, man! Alright, buddy, I’m clear, I’m with Riles, now just get your skinny butt out here and we’ll get the hell outta this crap hole.”_

 

Mac huffs out a breath in the semblance of a laugh and clamps his hand tighter to his side.

 

 “Ok, Jack,” he breathes, and he’s too focused on staying upright as he takes a step forward to mask the pain in his voice. He sees the exit door ahead, and even though the lights are back on he knows it’s unlocked since he’d been disabling it when the guard had found him earlier. He stumbles the next few steps, and tries to assure Jack that he’s on his way. But Jack doesn’t hear that last part. No, Jack’s too hung up on the breathless mutter, the rattle in his name as Mac stumbles closer to the door.

 

  _“Mac? Are you ok?_ Mac! _”_ There’s real panic in Jack’s voice now, and Mac wishes he could answer to reassure him that he’s ok, _because I am ok, Jack, I’m coming_ , but it hurts too much to talk or even breathe. So he keeps moving forward, leaning on support beams as he goes, and the only thought in his mind is _get to Jack, just get to Jack. He’ll help._

  


  He reaches the last support beam between him and the door, and he pauses to try and catch his breath again, but it hurts _too damn much_ and he’s choking again, gasping desperately for a breath that just won’t come. He knows he’s fading fast, so he lurches forward in one last attempt for safety. He hits the door with the full force of his body weight, and even though he can’t breathe and he’s already in a world of pain, he still feels the way his shoulder pops painfully against the steel frame. The extra pain nearly makes him black out, but he holds on just long enough to stumble his way over to where he can just make out the figures of Jack and Riley. He doesn’t know how long it takes, it could be seconds or minutes or hours for all he knows, but finally he’s only a couple yards away and he _still can’t breathe_ and his body decides it’s had enough. One second he’s standing, the next he’s falling to the ground as Jack and Riley race towards him screaming his name. And then there’s nothing but black.  


            

* * *

    


  Jack’s been at this gig a long time. He’s been CIA, Delta Force, EOD, secret agent. He’s been captured, shot, tortured, blown up, and stabbed more times than he cares to admit. Jack knows pain, and he knows how to deal with it. But there’s one type of pain he’s never, ever going to be able to handle. Seeing Angus Macgyver in pain will always cut him deeper than any knife, hit him harder than any punch, burn him hotter than any bomb blast. And right now he’s frozen, his whole mind _screaming_ with pain as he watches his kid stumble towards him, sees the dark ugly stain covering the entire left side of Mac’s blue shirt. Impossibly, he registers that it’s the same shade as the kid’s eyes, and for some reason it’s that image of Mac’s blue eyes surrounded by red that galvanizes him to move. He runs, Riley at his side, screaming, as Mac takes a couple more steps and _drops,_ and Jack skids painfully to his knees at his side. Mac’s face is pale, his eyes are shut, and there’s so much blood on him it’s terrifying. But then Jack notices the blue tinge on his lips and the lack of the rise and fall of his chest, and Jack wants to throw up. _He’s not breathing. My God, he’s not breathing._ He’s close to panicking, yelling Mac’s name and tapping his cheek until Riley grips his shoulder tightly.

 

  “Jack, we need to get him to exfil. _Now_ ,” she says sharply, but there’s a tremble in her voice that pierces Jack’s panic more than the words themselves. He sniffs and rubs at his face, and he wordlessly takes the balled up shirt Riley hands him and shoves it against Mac’s side. The kid flinches just slightly in reflex, and Jack feels relief flood him. _He’s still breathing, just not enough. I can deal with this_. He glances up at Riley, and she nods instantly. Jack stays by Mac’s head, and Riley takes his feet, and together they lift him up and head to the vehicle they have waiting a few yards away. Jack’s infinitely grateful that Riley heads to the driver’s seat once they have Mac in the car. He doesn’t think he can leave Mac’s side right now, let alone focus enough to drive. So he cradles Mac in his lap and keeps as much pressure as he dares on the bleeding hole in his side.

 

  The drive to the waiting chopper is only a couple minutes, but Jack doesn’t even register half of it. Instead he stares at Mac’s nearly translucent face and begs the kid to _breathe, Mac, just breathe._ And then they’re stopped and Riley’s out of the car, her voice loud and urgent as she yells for the medic in the chopper. The door is flung open, and hands are trying to pull Mac away from him and he fights them for a second before he comes to his senses. Mac is lifted onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask placed over his face, and Jack tries to stay next to him but Riley pulls him back. He wants to fight her, too, but he knows he can’t, and he just grips her hand and follows Mac onto the chopper. He flinches violently but can’t look away when the medic plunges a giant needle in between the kid’s ribs. He holds his breath and listens to the faint _whoosh_ that’s released through the end of the needle. He closes his eyes in sweet relief and squeezes Riley’s hand even tighter when Mac’s chest starts moving more regularly. But he’s still not stable, and the next hour is just a blur of activity around him, and then they’re wheeling him into the hospital but Jack doesn’t see anything but the still blond form on the stretcher. He makes it as far as the hospital door before it hits him, and if Riley hadn’t been beside him, he would’ve collapsed right then and there. _He’s so still. Mac shouldn’t be that still_. He lets Riley lead him to a chair, and he sinks into it heavily. There’s still blood on his hands when he looks down, and he stares at it blankly for a minute before Riley speaks.

 

  “He’s… he’s gonna be ok, Jack. You know he is.” She’s trying reassure herself just as much as him and Jack can’t speak for her, but it doesn’t help him one bit. “Mac’s tough. He’ll be ok.” But even she sounds uncertain, and she sniffs softly and Jack knows if he looks up he’ll see tears in her eyes and he hates it, he hates _this._ He hates the waiting, hates the uncertainty, hates how damn still his kid looked on that stretcher.

 

  “He was so still, Riles,” he whispers suddenly, and his voice is raw and cracked from emotion. “It isn’t right. Mac’s never that still. Never. Not even when he sleeps, ya know?” And it’s true. Even when he’s sleeping, the kid fidgets. And to see him so still, so… so seemingly _dead_ , is more than Jack can take. He looks up then, looks at Riley, and she’s crying softly and something in him just _breaks._  His eyes well up so much he can’t see, and then Riley’s face is buried in his shoulder and he tucks his head into her hair and neither one of them care that they’re both still covered in blood. Still, about an hour later with still no update on Mac, Riley is asleep on Jack’s shoulder and he takes a moment to look down at his hand. Now that he’s settled his emotions, Jack’s struck by a sudden wave of nausea as he realizes his hands and arms are caked in Mac’s dried blood. He clumsily gets to his feet without disturbing Riley and races to the bathroom, fighting his rolling stomach. He makes it to the sink and nearly gags as he shoves his hands under the faucet. He stares in morbid fascination as the water runs red down the drain, and he lets all his tears go with it.

 

  When he comes back ten minutes later, Riley’s awake and holding two cups of coffee, and Jack gratefully takes one from her freshly clean hands. He wants nothing more than to march down that hallway and demand an update, but Riley’s looking up at him expectantly so he sits down with her again. She sits as close to him as she can, and they drink their coffee in silence. Half an hour later, Jack’s downing the last of his horrible coffee when Riley sits up so quickly she nearly flies out of her seat. Jack looks up to see a doctor in scrubs coming towards them, and he’s out of his chair faster than he can blink. The man looks dead on his feet, and it scares Jack to death because it can’t be the hours that exhausted him, so it has to have been the surgery. Jack doesn’t even let the doctor introduce himself.

 

  “How is he? Is my boy ok, doc? Is he ok?” He knows he’s rambling, but Riley’s hanging on his arm tightly and the man in front of him looks so tired Jack can’t think straight. The doctor holds up his hand, but he doesn’t look angry. He smiles just a bit, and Jack relaxes just enough to think straight. But he’s still taught as a bowstring as the man starts talking.

 

  “My name is Doctor Morris, I’m assuming you’re with Mr. Macgyver?” When Jack manages a tiny nod, Dr. Morris continues. “It was seriously touch and go for a while. His lung did almost entirely collapse, and combined with the blood loss and added trauma of a severely dislocated shoulder… well, we very nearly lost him a couple times. But he’s strong, and he pulled through.” Jack nearly sags to the ground in relief, and he leans heavily against Riley as he feels her do the same.

 

_Mac pulled through_ , is all he can think. But Doctor Morris isn’t done.

 

  “Now, while he did pull through, we’re keeping an eye on him for any signs of brain damage, given the amount of time he was without oxygen. A severe tension pneumo can cause hypoxia, so we just want to make sure his brain is doing ok. We’ve done some scans and so far everything seems good, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.” Jack hears ‘brain damage’ and ‘hypoxia’ and he thinks he might throw up again. He can feel Riley tense up against him, and he forces himself to focus on the positive of Mac waking up.

 

  “When will he wake up, Dr. Morris?” The doctor smiles softly before answering.

 

  “It could be a matter of hours, or it could be a day or so. I think mostly it depends on your boy now, Mr. Macgyver.” It’s an understandable slip-up given the situation, but Jack can’t help the icy scowl that crosses his face at those words. Dr. Morris’s eyes widen and he takes a fraction of a step back. “I’m so sorry, are you not—” Jack sighs heavily, cutting him off with a half-hearted wave of his hand.

 

  “I’m sorry, Doc, you didn’t— no, I’m not the kid’s dad. As much as I wish—” he cuts himself off now, and rubs his nose. “Mac’s dad left him years ago, and I still wish I could punch him for abandoning that beautiful boy. I’m Jack Dalton, I’m his friend and coworker.” _But God, sometimes I wish he were my kid. I never would’ve left him like his scumbag pops did._ He hasn’t said any of this out loud, but Riley and Dr. Morris are looking at him like they just _know._ And he supposes it is pretty obvious. Just maybe not to Mac. He straightens again and clears his throat, and the mood shifts again. “Can we see him, doc?” Doctor Morris actually smiles now, and he nods.

 

  “He’s being settled as we speak, room 209. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’ll make sure the nurses leave you alone.” And with that he’s gone, and Jack and Riley head for the elevator immediately.

 

  Jack tried to brace himself for it, but he’s still not prepared when he walks into Mac’s room and sees the kid lying there, still as a statue and covered ok wires and tubes and bandages. He slowly moves to the bedside, and he sinks into the chair as Riley sits across from him on Mac’s other side. It’s quiet except for the beeping of the monitors, and Jack lets the sound of Mac’s steady heartbeat ease his mind. He reaches for Mac’s limp hand, a hand that makes so many things and saves so many lives, a hand that should never be this _still_. He holds it tight, and he stares at his boy. There’s an oxygen mask over his face, and the blankets are folded down to his waist so Jack can see the tube taped to his side that’s reinflating his lung. It makes him a bit sick, looking at that tube sticking out Mac’s skinny frame, and he moves his eyes back up to Mac’s face. His right arm’s in a sling, it must be the one he dislocated. He takes all this in and it finally hits him. _He was hurt the whole time. He was bleeding out and choking to death and he didn’t say a word._ Jack wants to be angry at him, but he can’t. Because he knows Mac did it for him. Mac kept it a secret and kept going so he could get Jack out. And how can he ever be mad at Mac when it’s his own stupid fault he got stuck in the first place? Jack slumps forward and rests his head on his hand still intertwined with Mac’s, and he feels Riley’s hand on his shoulder.

 

 “He’s gonna be ok, Jack,” she whispers softly, and this time her voice is full of confidence and warmth and Jack actually lets himself believe it. Sure, they might still have some hurdles to jump when Mac wakes up, but the important part is that he _will_ wake up. And with that thought rattling around his brain and the sound of Mac’s soft breathing and steady heartbeat in his ears, Jack closes his eyes and lets himself drift off to sleep, Mac’s hand still held tight in his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! This is actually the first Macgyver fic I started writing, but it took a lot longer to finish than the first one I posted. I’m actually considering either another chapter or a separate one-shot sequel, featuring a bit more of Mac’s recovery and maaaybe some super not-so-good complications??? (I’m so sorry, Mac.) Let me know what you guys think! I’m usually notorious for leaving multi-chapters unfinished, but I have a lot of ideas about this one so I’d love to get your opinions. Love, Rey :)


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